A Matter of Approval
by BabyBeaver
Summary: Strange title, but it kinda fits. Ingrid, Fillmore, their families, and dinner on a rather important date...


**Started it December 27****th****, 2007, after posting the final chapter of Or Maybe Something More. Decided I needed to write this, and a reviewer agreed with me, so here it is.**

**Nothing's mine. Except the fic.**

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Despite the fact that it was December, the sun was shining brightly and kids were running around in shorts. The braver ones, anyway.

Ingrid was not among them, though she had stowed her heavy jacket in the bottom of Carly's stroller, warm enough in her sweatshirt as she took her six-month-old for a walk. Of course, the baby was dressed warmly and covered in a blanket, but she seemed content enough under the warm layers.

Ingrid smiled down at her daughter, who giggled and shook her rattle, a gift from O'Farrell. The stroller had been Principal Folsom's contribution, and had actually been a graduation gift.

There had been many toys and diapers and other baby things given, and about half were being kept in the Thirds' basement, taking up about a fourth of the space. Ingrid had a hunch that Fillmore and the Safety Patrol had been behind the movement, though none of them was taking responsibility for it.

And speaking of Fillmore, today was the one-year anniversary of the day they'd been caught under the mistletoe, and he'd invited her family to join his for dinner.

Remembering the rendezvous, Ingrid turned the stroller back toward her home and arrived there just minutes later, met at the door by a smiling Ariella, who declared, "I'll watch the baby—you go change" before picking up her niece and heading for the living room.

Blinking, Ingrid took the offered break and went upstairs, heading first to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around her wet hair and headed for her bedroom.

Another five minutes passed, and Ingrid still wasn't satisfied with her wardrobe. There were several outfits scattered across her bed, and a few rejected ensembles littered her floor.

As she was examining one of her sweaters, a knock sounded on her door and Ariella's voice inquired, "Ingrid? You okay?"

"No," was Ingrid's groaned reply as her sister slipped into the room.

Noticing the array of clothing, Ariella chuckled. "Ingrid, it's Fillmore and his parents. What are you so worried about?"

"I don't know," Ingrid sighed. "Can you help me?"

"Of course," her sister smiled, pulling a dress Ingrid had forgotten she owned out of the closet. She hadn't worn the light blue, spaghetti-strap, thigh-length dress since…well, since it had been ankle-length and the straps needed to be shortened to accommodate her height. Also known as Ingrid's tenth birthday party.

"Are you sure about this, Ari?" she asked a few minutes later, looking down at the dress skeptically.

"Of course," Ariella replied confidently, pulling Ingrid's hair back and leading her over to the mirror.

Ingrid's eyes went wide, and Ariella grinned.

"Sis, you're beautiful. Of course, Fillmore doesn't need to see you in this to convince him of that." She winked. "But it wouldn't hurt."

Ingrid blushed, and Ariella grinned wider.

"C'mon, let's go get Dad and Carly and go to Fillmore's."

With a sigh, Ingrid grabbed her coat and followed her sister down the stairs and out the door, taking Carly from her father and starting up the street.

Ten minutes later, they were ushered into the Fillmores' house by a smiling Karim, followed closely by Fillmore, who took Carly from Ingrid as the three shed their coats.

Fillmore stopped cooing to Carly and his jaw dropped as he watched Ingrid slip her coat off, his eyes wide.

"Wow, Ingrid, I…" he stuttered, his turning red and his proclamation ending.

"What Cornelius is trying to say is you look lovely," Joelle interpreted with a smile, motioning them to the living room.

Ingrid returned the smile, settling on the couch between Fillmore and Ariella and smiling at Carly, who seemed content in Fillmore's lap.

She didn't miss the look that passed between her father and Fillmore's parents, and shot a quick, warning look of her own at her father, who ignored it and started chatting.

"You know, I think Carly likes Cornelius more than she does her grandfather," he mused, smiling.

"Like father like daughter," Fillmore reminded him, his eyebrows rising.

Mr. Third smiled. "I suppose. Which would make your daughters very clever girls, eh?"

Fillmore's face again turned red and Ingrid breathed a sigh of relief when Joelle stood and declared that dinner was probably ready.

The meal itself passed quite uneventfully, save for Mr. Third's attempts at humor that Karim silently convinced him to stop, and the small mess Carly made when she swung her rattle and tipped over her bottle, which lost its cover and splattered all over the giggling baby.

With an exasperated, loving sigh, Ingrid excused herself and picked up Carly, snatching the diaper bag from its post near the couch and heading for the bathroom.

As she redressed Carly in a clean outfit, Ingrid realized that the others had moved back into the living room.

Holding both Carly and the diaper bag, Ingrid was glad she had left the bathroom door partway open and pulled it all the way open with her foot, coming face-to-face with an amused Filmore.

"Need some help, Third?" he asked, taking the baby before she could respond.

"I…guess so… Thank you," Ingrid answered, following him into the living room, where he handed Carly off to his mother and turned back to her, looking so determined that Ingrid almost took a step backward.

"I should probably say this now before I completely forget it. Ingrid, you captured my attention the moment I met you, and my heart soon after that. Being the preteen that I was, I convinced myself it was just puberty and would go away. But as time went by and we got closer, I figured out what it really was. And the feeling kept growing, especially this past year. I realized something under that mistletoe, Ingrid. And I've become more convinced of it ever since, especially watching you deal with the aftermath of the…attack, and watching you raise Carly these past few months." He stopped, taking a breath and looking at her sincerely before continuing, "I…I love you, Ingrid."

He pulled something from his pocket and knelt in front of her, opening to box and asking, "Ingrid, will you marry me?"

For a moment, Ingrid could only blink. Then, out of her trance, she hugged him, and cheers filled the house.

Not just the cheers of their families, Ingrid realized, and looked behind Fillmore to see the Safety Patrol grinning and applauding as well.

"What…?"

Danny grinned. "We've been upstairs all night."

Ingrid looked back at Fillmore, who smiled sheepishly. "They helped plan it. Except what I was going to say—that came to me about five minutes ago."

"You're terrible," Ingrid told him. "But I love you anyway."

She hugged him again and he tipped her head upward. Neither said a word as he kissed her, grinning when her eyes closed and letting his own flutter shut.

For a moment, they ignored the group of people around them, but when Carly started laughing, Ingrid walked over to the couch, scooping up her daughter to ask, "So you approve, huh?"

Carly swiveled toward Fillmore, arms outstretched, and everyone burst into laughter.

"Looks like it," Mr. Third smiled. "The girls' got good taste."

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**There you are. One thousand two hundred words even. About half the words in one chapter of Or Maybe Something More. xD**

**It's a little funky, but that's the way my imagination works. I wrote part of it while babysitting and ended up watching Ratatouille the whole time so some of my inspiration could have come from that… Other than that, it's pretty much just randomly inspired and written… Why they would celebrate or keep track of being stuck under mistletoe, I don't really know, but go with it.**

**Oh, and Happy New Year!**


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